Another Chance
by Neseve Sedai
Summary: Sequel for 'To Love a Pirate! Takes place after DMC. NorringtonOC. Rating may possibly go up in later chapters. I'm not very good with summaries so you should just read the story. lol. [CHAPTER 5 UP!] R&R.
1. Recollections of the Past

Thanks to everyone who reviewed my other story. Here is the sequel of 'To Love a Pirate.' Some of the facts may be a little off because it has been a few months since I saw Dead Man's Chest, but I will do my best to stay true to the film. I apologize in advance for any errors I may make. Please read and review! 

Recollections of the Past

Isobel stood below decks on the _Flying Dutchman_ with her arms wrapped around her shaking body, sobbing. Everything from her past had come rushing back to her two days ago. She had seen him. _Him. _The man she thought she would never see again. The man who had thought her dead; he still knew no different. The one man she had ever loved. James. Over time she had become numb to emotions. She had learned to block out her past. But seeing him had opened a door inside of her and everything she had locked away inside came flowing out.

It had happened when Captain Jones had sent them onto the land to retrieve his chest. Jack Sparrow and his companions had kept it away from them- and each other- while fighting over it. That is until they met a lone man running back through the woods with the chest. Isobel had only been able to stare blankly as James gave them the chest- the empty chest- and ran away. Her companions had hardly been able to rouse her, and when she finally regained a sense of feeling and began to move back to the ship, she felt dazed. She had been like that for the past two days, staring blankly as she worked and crying uncontrollably whenever she could get some time alone.

When the Kraken had taken the _Black Pearl_, Isobel had clutched the railing of the ship and stared at the ghastly scene, praying to any god who would listen that James was not on that ship. Luckily, Jack Sparrow had been the only person that was taken. Captain Jones had him prisoner now. When he found out that Sparrow didn't have the heart, he had been furious, but he agreed to let Jack live as normal man, not yet beginning his 100 years service in the _Dutchman's _crew, until he helped hive recover the heart. Jack had agreed. Isobel longed to go ask him about James. She longed to know how he was doing, whether he was dead or alive, if he was safe. Jack might know something of him. But she hadn't had any opportunity to get him alone yet. Now, as she cried, she recalled her last moments with James.

When Blackeye stabbed her, she knew that she was going to die. She knew his sword had pierced vital organs, and she had been bleeding profusely. Luckily she had the satisfaction of seeing him die first. As she lay there, feeling her life slowly draining out of her body, James had rushed over to her.

_He was bloody from the killing he had done. Isobel feebly reached up her hand to smooth some of his hair back. He took the hand and held it tightly between his own. She felt so cold._

_"You're going to be alright," he said after he had seen her wound. His voice was thick with unshed tears, and his last word came out in a croak as his voice broke. "Everything will be fine," he continued hoarsely, "I'll just get you to the ship…" He put his arms around her waist and began lifting her, but the movement sent spasms of pain all through Isobel's body. She groaned in pain. He eased her body back down and began to shakily rub her hair. "Oh, Isobel," he murmured, "Isobel. Isobel. I love you, Isobel." A tear rolled down his cheek. "Please don't leave me."_

_She reached up and wiped away the tear. It was an effort to force a smile. The gaping wound in her stomach was the most painful thing she had ever experienced, and it hurt to breathe. "I'll always be with you," she whispered as she caressed his cheek, "When the sun shines on you, know that it is me smiling down at you. When the wind rustles your hair, it is me whispering how much I love you." She trailed her finger down to his chest and felt the beat of his heart. "I will always be here. In your heart. In your soul. Go on with your life. Think of me from time to time and remember what we shared. Remember our love."_

_Then he broke down into tears, clutching her hand and begging her not to leave him. If she could have found the energy to cry she would have wept with him, but she could only lie there numbly. She knew her time was running out, so she took his face in her hands again. "Kiss me, please," she told him, "I want to feel your lips on mine once more. Please, James." He brought his lips down against hers gently. Isobel savored the feeling of him. She wished things could have been different. After she killed Blackeye, she wanted to take James back to Ireland with her. They would have gotten married and maybe had children. Oh, how she wanted to have James's babies! None of that would happen now._

_When he pulled away, she continued to speak. "Take me to the waters edge and let me die there. Give my body to the sea." He looked like he wanted to argue. Whether to assure her again that she would not die or object her idea of a funeral, she did not know. She didn't give him a chance to speak. "That is what I want, James. Please do this for me."_

_He gently lifted her. It hurt to be moved, but she tried to suppress her groans. She did not want James to know how much pain she was in. She did not want to add on to his sorrow. Instead of laying her down, he sat at the waters edge and held her in his lap. She didn't object. It felt good to be held by him one last time. "Why?" he moaned softly as he rocked her limp body back and forth, "Why? Why? Why?"_

_"Please do not be bitter, my love," she said. It was an effort to speak, but she wanted to say all that she could to him before it was too late. "Not many people have what we had. I would not trade my time with you for anything, even if it was a short time. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. I will always love you. If you know nothing else, know that."_

_"You are the only woman I have ever loved, Isobel," he whispered to her brokenly, "The happiest day of my life was when I met you. I wouldn't trade our time together for anything either. I love you, and I'll love you until the day that I die and my soul comes to join yours." She smiled weakly at him, and then she was gone._

Or so James thought. The next thing Isobel remembered after her talk with James was looking into the face- if you could call it a face- of a squid-like man.

_"Are you ready to meet your maker?" the man said, "Are you ready to face judgment and for all your sins to be accounted for? I can save you from that fate… for a price."_

_Isobel wondered at this… creature. "Who are you?" she asked weakly._

_The man thing laughed. It was an eerie, sickening sound. "Why, I am Davy Jones."_

_Davy Jones…? How could it be? Were all the stories true? No. Those stories were for children. That was rubbish. Then she began to think about what he asked her. Was she ready to face judgment? Was she? No, she decided after a moment. No, she was not. Could she be saved from her fate? "Name your price." Davy Jones laughed again._

Then she found out that those 'stories' were not just idle tales to entertain children. She was living- if you could even call it living- in one of those stories. At first, she thought everything would be okay, but then it was apparent that she had made a terrible decision. She still had 85 more years of service in Davy Jones's crew. She would give anything to be released from this.

Isobel was extremely thankful that James had not seen her. He would be appalled if he knew what she was like now. The smooth ivory skin that he had once loved was now unnaturally pale and discolored, like the skin of a rotting corpse. Her long red hair hung in a tangled mass and was riddled with squid tentacles. In place of her left hand she had a dark red lobster claw. Her face wasn't too changed aside from the fact that a few barnacles stuck to it here and there. But that made it even worse for her. She had a glimpse of her former self but knew that she could never be that woman again. She hoped she would never see James again. She didn't think she could bear to have him look at her like a monster.

"Oh, James," she sobbed, "James. Why? Why? Why?"

"I know how you feel, girl." Isobel gasped and whirled around at the sound of a man's gruff voice.

"Bootstrap!" she gasped. Bill Turner- Bootstrap Bill- had come upon her silently, startling her. She tried to choke back her sobs and furiously brushed the tears off her cheeks. She knew it was no use though. Anyone with eyes would have no problem telling just how much she had been crying. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Same as you," Bill replied as he walked toward her. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. "I wasn't busy, so I came to seek solitude below decks. I have had quite a few things to think about these past few days."

Isobel looked at Bill with unblinking eyes. She recalled the young man who had been taken aboard a few days before she saw James. Bill's son. Bill had left him- William- when he was just a boy, to go pirating. That had been the last time Bill had seen his son until a few days ago. She wondered how William had reacted to seeing his father for the first time. She wondered if he knew James. She decided she would ask Bill about her first thought.

"What did your son say," she began hesitantly. This might be a touchy subject. "When he saw you?"

Bill looked at her for a moment before answering. "He was surprised… to say the least. It's shocking when someone believes you to be dead and then comes face to face with you."

Isobel gulped. How would James react when he saw her? He would certainly be surprised also. He had thought he saw her die in his arms. Well, in truth she had. Her old life was gone, the old Isobel dead. Now she was a monster. She looked down at her claw. What would he say about that? "What did…" she drew deep breath, "What did he say about how you looked?"

Bill met her eyes. "When someone really cares about you, they can get past your appearance."

Isobel knew James had loved her; there was no doubt in her mind about that. She knew what they had had been real. But would he be able to see past her hideousness if they were by some chance to meet again?

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James Norrington, newly reappointed to Commodore, sat alone in his cabin on the ship. He had been at sea for only two days now. Lord Beckett was now in possession of Davy Jones's heart, and he had reasoned that to stay in Port Royal would attract Davy Jones's attention. So they all set out to sea.

But right now, Lord Beckett, Davy Jones, and the heart were all far from James's mind.

It was 15 years ago to the day that a part of himself had died. He usually refrained from thinking of Isobel much- it was too painful- but some days, especially on the anniversary of her death, he could not keep her out of his mind. He could still recall vividly their last days together, the good and the bad. Dreams of her soft body pressed against him, of her full lips on his, haunted his sleep. He still remembered exactly the way her smooth, silky skin felt to his fingertips. He could still recollect the taste of her mouth. Sometimes he would wake in the middle of the night after a pleasant dream of her, and he would reach out in his bed thinking that he would find her lying beside him. Then reality would come crashing back, and he would lie awake the rest of the night trying to banish thoughts of Isobel.

He wondered what his life would have been like if she had not died. He would certainly have a family by now. She was so eager to have children. He looked to his bed as he recalled a conversation they had had a few nights before her death.

_James sat up in bed with his back against the wall. Isobel snuggled into his chest. He idly played with her hair as she talked. _

_"I will want at least seven children," she was saying, "Four girls and three boys. Or maybe four boys and three girls. I don't know. I want to name one of the girls Briana, after my mother, and I want to name one of the boys Patrick, for my father. I'm not sure about the others, but we will certainly have some time to think on it. I want…." She trailed off and looked up at him. "Are you listening to me, James Norrington?" she asked with mock anger as she playfully pinched his chest._

_In truth, he had only been half listening. He was too busy loving her to really hear what she was saying then. He smiled down at her adoringly. "Of course, my love," he replied. He racked his brain, trying to recall her words. "Um… Briana and Patrick… seven children…." His eyes widened as he really realized what he had said. "Seven?"_

_Isobel giggled. "Yes, seven. At least." At James's bewildered look, she explained, "I didn't have any brothers or sisters and my childhood was sometimes rather lonely. I want my children to grow up in a big family. You will have to get used to the idea."_

_James caressed her cheek then kissed her sweet lips tenderly. "Whatever you want, darling," he murmured. He knew whatever she desired or asked him for, he wouldn't be able to deny her. She had him in the palm of her hand. He loved her so much that he didn't care._

_"Good," she replied, running her hands up and down his bare torso, "I love you, you know."_

_He grinned and nodded. "I know." He stroked her smooth back with his fingertips. "I love you, too. More than anything."_

_She gave him a sultry smile and rolled onto her back pulling him down with her._

They would never have those seven children. James sighed as he pulled off his boots, getting ready for bed, though he knew he would get no sleep tonight.

Since Isobel's death, he had tried to fill the void in his soul with various women, but none seemed to work. Elizabeth Swann had come closest. She reminded him of Isobel somewhat. They were both very spirited and lively, with minds of their own. He had chosen to propose to Elizabeth because of that, and because he thought that Isobel would have liked her. But now he didn't even have that. Losing Elizabeth, though, was not at all as painful or as hard to bear as having to give up Isobel. Her death had been by far the hardest thing he had had to bear in his whole life.

Undressed, he lay down on the small bed. He closed his eyes and in vain tried to doze off. But inevitably, every time he felt himself start to drift, a beautiful ivory face with sparkling emerald eyes and full pink lips, framed by glossy red ringlets, presented itself in his mind and he was wide awake again.

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Okay there's my first chapter! Please review and tell me how you liked it.


	2. A Talk with Jack

Sorry it's taken me so long to update this. Last week I had a lot of homework. Algebra 2 freaking sucks! And I wasn't feeling very inspired. But I'll try to do better. Thanks to all who reviewed.

A Talk with Jack

Isobel walked towards where she knew Captain Jones kept Jack Sparrow. She longed to ask him about James, to hear her true love's name spoke out loud. She didn't think anyone would be with him now so she had decided to risk a visit. She hadn't slept the whole night. When she wasn't working, she lay awake in her bunk reminiscing about her time with James or contemplating Bill's words.

She sneaked down below decks silently. When she neared the cell that Jack was being kept in, she paused and took a deep breath. She was afraid of what Jack might tell her. What if James had died shortly after he saw her? What if he was married? She knew she shouldn't be upset about that. He thought she was dead. She wanted him to be happy. If it took another woman to make him so, then so be it. But still her blood boiled with jealousy and her eyes filled with tears of hurt every time she thought about it. What if he had forgotten her? She forced herself away from that line of thinking and cautiously turned the corner before the cell. A big guard with a head almost like that of a hammerhead shark stood with his arms crossed in front of the door. Isobel would have to get past him to get to Jack.

"What are you doing here?" he growled.

Isobel thought quickly. "I'm to question the prisoner," she hissed, pulling out her large knife and brandishing it, "Captain's orders."

The man looked warily at the knife. Isobel had developed a reputation for being quite ruthless during her fifteen years of service. Being the only female on the crew, the men had at first tried to take advantage of her. She let them know in no uncertain terms that she would be having none of it. They had been surprised that such ferocity could come from so petite a woman. Each of them now tread cautiously around her whenever she had a knife out.

"Captains orders?" the man questioned.

"Would I be down here if it was not true?!" she snarled, "Now open this door."

He made no move for the keys. "Why is he not with you?"

"You think the captain does not have matters more important to see to?" she exclaimed. She took a step closer to him and held the knife inches away from his neck. "If you don't let me in _right now_," she whispered menacingly, "You will feel my blade, and then I will deliver you to the captain. How do you think he would react if he found you were disregarding his orders?"

He frowned down at her skeptically. "How do I know you're not lying?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to chance it?"

He studied her for a moment longer then stepped aside. He took out the keys and opened the door. "Don't take to long," he ordered, "And if I hear anything out of the ordinary, I'm coming in."

Isobel glared at him before stepping into the cell and slamming the door closed behind her. It was so dim that it took her eyes a moment to adjust. When they finally did, she saw Jack lying on his back against the far wall. He was humming softly, but he cut off when she came into the room. "Oh, a visitor!" he exclaimed, sitting up, "Good, good. I hope you've brought rum."

Isobel rolled her eyes with a sigh. In the brief time she had known Jack, he had been rather… odd. If he was still in high spirits- and asking for rum of all things- he must have gotten worse. "Do you remember me, Jack?" she asked.

He jerked around to face her. "He has women on this ship? It's bad luck."

"I don't think he's too worried. I took his offer; I'm paying the price like everyone else. What of my question?"

He looked at her another moment. Then recognition slowly dawned in his eyes. "Isobel Bryant!" he exclaimed, "The young pirate lass! You've… You look… Well," He scrunched up his nose in distaste as he took in the sight of her. "Let's just say, you've looked better."

Isobel felt like hurling her knife at him. She felt like lying down on the cold damp floor and sobbing until she could sob no more. She felt like screaming at the top of her lungs in anguish. But she knew she couldn't do any of those things. The first, although it would give her brief satisfaction, it wouldn't answer any of her question, and she knew that the captain would not be happy about it at all. The second would make him think she was a pitiful sniveling wretch, and she would not have that. And the third would make him think she was a loon. So she did her best to smooth her features and appear calm. She forced her voice to sound calm. "I didn't come down here to discuss my looks with you, Jack Sparrow. I want to ask you some questions."

He lifted a finger and raised one of his eyebrows. "Ah, but what if I don't want to answer them?" he asked.

She lunged at him with the knife, glad for a reason to vent her aggression. She brought the blade to a stop only inches before his face. "I suggest you answer them," she growled dangerously through clenched teeth, "Or I'll make you wish you had."

"Easy, love," Jack chuckled, pushing away the knife, "I didn't say I wasn't going to. I was just curious as to how important these answers were going to be to you, and by your reaction, it seems that they are very important indeed. Ask away."

Isobel's anger rose at his cool manner and easy banter, but again she forced down her emotions. "I wanted to ask you about a mutual acquaintance of ours…." She trailed off, still fearing that James might be married or sick or dead.

"You're going to have to be more specific, love."

"I was wondering what you knew about a man called James Norrington."

"Ah, the commodore! Or, well, the late commodore at least."

Isobel's eyes widened. Her James was all that? Why? She had heard nothing of him since she became part of Jones's crew. Every time she heard talk of Port Royal or the navy, she stopped listening to the conversation. Talk of that kind was too painful for her. It inevitably made her think of James.

"Why," Jack continued, drawing his brows together quizzically, "Might I ask, are you asking about our beloved commodore?" There was obvious sarcasm in his voice.

Tears filled her eyes at the word 'beloved.' He _was _her beloved. Oh, how she missed those all too brief nights of talking and making love with James. "I knew him a long time ago," she said finally, her eyes taking on a far away look as she remembered the past, "We were… close. You saw him with me once, although I doubt you'd remember it. You were very intoxicated that night."

Jack's eyes widened a bit, and Isobel knew that he had guessed what her relationship with James was. Her suspicion was confirmed with his next words. "You were lovers."

It was not a question but she snapped, "Yes! But I am asking the questions here." She paused and drew a deep breath, trying to calm herself. This would all be for nothing if she angered Jack and he refused to tell her anything. She forced her voice to sound less angry. "Could you tell me how he is?" Please, she prayed in her mind, say he's alive. Say he's well.

"Last I saw him we were on an island," Jack responded, "All fighting over that bloody chest, your Norrington among us. And what bloody good did it get me? Nothing! Anyways, I don't know what happened to him after that or if he's even alive. Sorry, love."

Isobel squeezed her eyes shut at the tears that threatened to fall out. So he didn't know. Well, maybe James was back in Port Royal safe. She would give anything to ensure that he was safe. Then a startling thought came to her. What if James had the heart? Jack didn't have it, and he said that they had all been fighting over the chest. If James had it, when Jones found out he would go after him and kill him. She couldn't let that happen. If he died, she couldn't bear to live. Swiftly, lest she burst into tears right there, Isobel pushed the thoughts out of her mind. "Will you tell me all that you know of him?" she asked of Jack, "What he is like now. Things like that."

Isobel listened intently as Jack starting to speak.


	3. Reunion

Sorry it's been so long since I updated. I've had so much to do with school. It's crazy! I have to write three freaking papers for this summer school I'm applying for, and it's really stressing me out. I also have a French project to finish that's due like in a few days, and I have to finish a freaking long book! Yeah, well, now since you've all heard (read actually… but w/e) my life's story, I'll get back to the real story. Oh, I also want to apologize for the last chapter sucking so badly. For some reason Jack is really hard for me to write. I don't want him to seem out of character, but it's really hard to keep him in character (for me at least). I also wasn't feeling very inspired when I last reviewed, but I think I'm back in the groove now so this should go better.

Reunion

Davy Jones sat at his organ staring gloomily down at the keys. He did not feel like playing much of late. He was worried. Absently, one long tentacle wriggled its way up to the spot at his chest where his key used to nestle. He still felt hot rage boiling inside him when it touched bare flesh instead of cold metal. He gritted his teeth against the anger that threatened to burst from him and sear everyone and everything within reach. When he found his heart… Oh he shivered with pleasure thinking of his revenge. Whoever had it would pay. Oh they would pay dearly indeed.

That line of thinking immediately shifted his attention to his prisoner. Jack Sparrow. He hadn't yet talked to the man at length, but something told him that Jack knew where he could find his heart. He had expected it to be with Jack when the Kraken took him, but alas it was not. Still, he thought that if Jack knew where to find it, he could strike some sort of deal with him. After all, striking deals was his specialty, and Jack Sparrow's life was in his hands. Resolved, Davy pushed himself out of his chair and began to make his way to the brig where he would find Sparrow… and some answers.

He stalked below deck in the dark dank passageways to the brig. As he neared Jack Sparrow's holding place, Maccus, one of his guards came forward.

"Captain, I…" he began, but Davy who was in no mood to hear a report cut him off.

"Not now, Maccus," he snarled, "Leave me be."

"But, Captain…"

"I said 'not now!'" Reproached by his captain's livid tone, Maccus slinked back to a corner silently. Satisfied, Davy made his way to Sparrow's cell. He didn't notice the petite figure crouching in the shadows.

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As soon as Isobel heard her captain's booming voice, she had scrambled out of Jack's cell, locking it back behind her, and hid. At first she thought of making her way back to the deck, but then decided that a little eavesdropping wouldn't hurt. At least, if she wasn't caught.

She took a moment to contemplate over some of the things that Jack had told her. James Commodore? The idea was ludicrous to her. Not that she had any doubt whatsoever that he _could _be Commodore. Isobel knew that James could be anything he wanted to be if he set his mind to it. But why would he _want _to? He had once helped her commandeer a ship and gather a crew in Tortuga. Did that sound like a future commodore of the British Navy? Another thing she pondered was this Elizabeth woman that Jack had been so uncomfortable about speaking of. Had James loved Elizabeth as he had once loved her? He had requested to marry her. Isobel berated herself for the tears of hurt that gathered in her eyes. She had no right to be upset. Would she not have done the exact same thing if she had survived and thought James dead? And she knew that if James had known her plight he would have done anything and everything to rescue her. She sighed quietly and turned her attention to the voices in the cell.

"Your soul belongs to _me_, Sparrow." She shivered at that voice and those words. Those words had been spoken to her by that same eerie voice too many times before. 'Your soul belongs to _me_.'

"So I suggest you answer my questions truthfully," Jones continued. Isobel stealthily maneuvered around two barrels and positioned herself in a corner where she had a view of the captain and Jack.

"What's in it for me, mate?" Jack questioned suavely.

"I let you live."

Isobel saw Jack raise an eyebrow. "Live? Do you mean 'live' like this?" He gestured widely with his arms, obviously referring to the _Flying Dutchman's _crew. "Cause if that's so…. Well, that isn't what I consider livin' mate." Isobel heartily agreed with that.

Jones shook his head. "If you aid me in finding what I seek, I'll give you your freedom." He held out the key to Jack's cell, but when Jack made a move as if to reach for it, Jones withdrew his hand. "But if you don't aid me, whether I find it or not, you'll be no better off then these other maggots who work for me. What's in it for you? Life."

Isobel's mouth watered at those words, and images flashed through her head of the life that _she _could have had. Her and James walking hand-in-hand on the beach in the moonlight. Long nights spent up making love. Their children. It would all have been perfect…. But now she knew that that could never be. She barely suppressed a sigh.

Jack appeared to contemplate Jones's suggestion for a moment. Then he stood up quickly with a cheerful, "You've got yourself a deal, mate!" Isobel wasn't surprised. Nor did she resent Jack for giving in. Had she been given that option, she would have done the same thing.

Davy Jones smiled a smile that never reached his cold eyes. "Good. Now what do you know?"

Jack put his fingertips to his lips, and his brows furrowed in thought. No doubt, he knew much but was simply trying to decide what he could get away with leaving out. "Now I don't know for certain," he began hesitantly, pacing the small cell, "But I believe I know who may have your heart. There were only three men fighting for that chest on the island, and as you know _I _don't have it."

Isobel felt as if the pit of her stomach had turned to ice, and she balled up a fist against her abdomen, fighting the waves of nausea that threatened to overcome her. He couldn't mean….

"A man called Norrington."

_No!_ No longer able to contain herself, Isobel bolted up from her hiding spot, knocking over a barrel in the process and causing both Jack and her captain to look in her direction. But she did not think of the danger of being discovered. All that was in her mind was that Jack had betrayed her love. She rushed over to the cell and threw herself against the iron bars blocking her from the inside. "You filthy bastard!" she screeched at Jack, "You treacherous son of a bitch! How could you? How could you do this? You're a traitor! A stinking traitor. I'll slit your throat for this. I'll…." So lost in her tirade at Jack, she did not even notice Jones coming out of the cell. So it took her by surprise when a stinging blow to her cheek knocked her off balance and threw her to the floor.

"Silence, bitch!" Jones boomed as he towered over her. Tears of both anger and pain blurred her vision and distorted her captain's face as she looked up at him. The fact that James probably had Jones's heart had come as a shock to her. Jack had told her that he had been among those on the island fighting for it, but she hadn't thought….She realized that she should have suspected that he had it though. It had been hope that kept her from seeing the truth. She recalled something her father told her once: 'People believe what they want to believe, lass, but you have to be able to see the truth.' She hadn't done that. She had hoped James was far away, safe and out of this mess now, but now, looking back, she realized how illogical that reasoning was. She could no longer think as she was hauled to her feet by her throat. One of Jones's tentacles tightened painfully around her neck almost closing up her windpipe. She gasped for breath.

"How do you know this man?" When she didn't answer he shook her so hard she saw spots. "How do you know this man?!"

"I don't! I don't!" Isobel moaned, trying to undo the wrong she had done. She should have never let Jones know that she was emotionally tied to James. Davy Jones was the cruelest, most wicked, cold-hearted, creature she had ever come to know.

"Oh really." Jones slung her back down to the floor, and her head rebounded from the hard wood with a loud bang, but she managed to maintain consciousness.

"Umm, pardon me," Jack said from the cell, "But I doubt she'll be of much use to you if you kill her."

"Shut up, Sparrow!" Jones thundered.

Isobel turned a glare on Jack. She didn't want _him _to try and help her. She would rather have Jones beat her to death than take help from that devious rat!

"Stand up, bitch!" Jones commanded. Isobel turned emerald green eyes sparkling with rage and hate up to him as she slowly pushed herself to her feet. Jones looked at her thoughtfully. "Maybe you will be of use to me. We'll find out when we catch this _Norrington_."

Isobel felt as if she would sick up.

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James stood at the back of the ship squinting into the distance, looking for whatever it was that had caused the disturbance. Some men had reported seeing bubbles and fleeting images of something unknown in the water. It was his duty to make sure nothing was amiss. The logical side of him, the side that was most often dominant in his personality, said it was a mistake on his men's part. But there was another part of him, although he hated to admit it a superstitious part, that feared that it was something much, much more.

Although, he had not seen it, he had heard tales of the fearsome Kraken, and while once he wouldn't have believed in silly stories like that…. Well, he had stolen Davy Jones's heart. A still beating heart. He shivered uncomfortably as he thought about it. That was proof enough that some of the stories that he used to think were foolish children's tales were in fact real. Could it be that Davy Jones had discovered them?

Fleetingly, he wondered if it was worth the risk. Of course it was. He had been reinstated as commodore, and everything was back as it should be. He smoothed his hands down the front of his crisp and clean new coat. Then they moved up to his face. His chin was no longer covered in the rugged stubble he had adopted in his stay at Tortuga. He lifted a satisfied hand to the top of his head where sat his new hat and freshly powdered wig. Yes, things were back to normal.

Suddenly the ship lurched, and James stumbled forward. He had to grab the railing of the deck to keep from falling into the watery abyss. Mentally he groaned, expecting the worse, but he didn't allow himself to despair. He was the commodore. He _had _to remain in control.

"All hands on deck!" he yelled loudly.

Men began to move quickly, everyone going there own stations. James had to find Beckett. The heart was in his possession now. He had to warn him. But as he began to run, a long, ugly tentacle was thrust up threw the middle of the deck right where he was standing. Knocked off balance by the jolt, he stumbled and fell forward. The tentacle grabbed his leg before he could bring himself back to his feet. James grappled for his sword as the tentacle menacingly drew him to the large hole that it had made. James knew that if he went down that hole, all hope for him was lost. After what seemed like an agonizing eternity, he freed his sword from its scabbard. Deftly, he slashed at the tentacle. With a low shriek it curled back, but he knew that that was not enough to stop it. Sword still in hand, he scrambled to his feet. But to no avail. He was knocked off his feet by a second searching tentacle. It was as if they were intended for him solely. Were they? As he fell to his feet the second time, his sword was knocked out of his hand and flew at least ten paces away. He reached for his pistol, but it was too late. He was already being pulled, none too gently, down the hole. As he disappeared into the darkness, his head made contact with something he didn't see with a loud crack, and his world faded into blackness.

He awoke an indefinite amount of time later to someone shaking him. He was wet and cold and still a little out of it. His foggy mind could not comprehend the words that he was hearing. Then a bucket of cold water was emptied over his head. "What the bloody…?" he began, but then recollection came to him. He was hauled to his feet by two strong pairs of arms. And he found himself face to face with a squid-like man. Davy Jones.

It was James immediate reaction to recoil, but Jones grabbed him by the collar and held him immobile. "Where is it?!" Jones demanded, giving him a shake, "Where?!"

His mind was racing, trying to decide how to act. In a split second he opted to play dumb. "What are you talking about? Where is what?" Jones backhanded him across the mouth, and James tasted blood. He stumbled but remained on his feet.

"Answer my question!"

"I don't have anything!" James answered truthfully. _He _didn't have anything. Beckett had the heart, and James prayed to God that he had gotten away safely. That heart was too valuable to be allowed back into Davy Jones's hands. With that heart a person could control the seas.

"What do you mean you don't have it?" Jones roared, "_Where is my heart_!"

"I've told you I don't have anything!" James shouted back.

"_Fine_," Jones spat angrily, "You'll answer my questions truthfully in time." He gestured to one of his deformed minions. "Maccus!"

"Aye, Captain."

"Flog him!"

"Aye, Aye, Sir."

James was dragged by the same two creatures who had been shaking him and pouring water on him over to the mast. They stripped him of his coat and shirt, and despite, his furious resistance, managed to bind him to the mast.

"How many lashes, Captain?" A gruff voice questioned. James assumed this was Maccus.

"Until I say stop," Jones growled. The crew cheered.

Suddenly, James felt a whip come down hard on his bare back. He jerked in his bonds and grunted in pain. Another lash. Another. Another. Another. Another. Another. By this time, James could bite back his screams no longer. He could feel the whip searing his flesh, ripping it away from his body. The pain was unbearable, relentless. As his consciousness began to slip away from him, he imagined he heard Isobel screaming in protest.

The flogging went on for an eternity. It seemed like a lifetime of pain. James had been brought to the point where he was no longer aware of anything other than the pain, so he was surprised when he suddenly felt something cool on his open wounds. He jerked up and realized that his surroundings had changed. He was no longer on the deck bound to the mast. He was in a cool, dim room somewhere below decks. He glanced around and his eyes lit on a lobster claw belonging to whatever member of Jones's despicable crew who had decided to take pity on him. He didn't want any of their help. Painfully, he wrenched himself out of their reach with a growled, "Don't touch me." He still didn't look back.

There was a moment of silence. Then he heard a sniff. "You used to let me touch you, James," whispered a shaky female voice. A voice he knew. He whirled around.

"Isobel!"

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Okay I don't know if I'm exactly happy with this chapter. Definitely better than the last I think, but I still don't know. So please review and let me know what you think. Reviews mean a lot to me, and both praise and criticism (as long as it's not flaming) are appreciated. So, please, please, please, review:)


	4. Could you love a monster?

Okay here's just a short James/Isobel dialogue chapter that I figured I would go ahead and get out tonight. I'm not sure when I'll get the next one out, but I'll try to have it completed before the end of next week.

'Could You Love a Monster?'

James felt as if the room was spinning. The pain in his back was forgotten for a moment as he stared into the captivating green eyes that gazed at him sorrowfully. It couldn't be! It couldn't _possibly _be! _How _could this be happening?! He panted as he watched her turn her back to him and shake with quiet sobs.

"Isobel." He repeated her name in astonishment.

It was impossible. He had seen her _die_! He had held her in his arms, gently rocking her back and forth, as she gasped her final breaths. He had watched her body slowing sink down to the depths. He had _known _she was dead. And that was when he really saw her. Her skin was sickly pale with an almost blue tint. Barnacles marred her face. Her once lustrous and beautiful red curls were tangled and riddled with tentacles. And when he looked down at her hands, he realized that only one was a _human _hand. The other was the lobster claw that he had first seen.

All sorts of emotions coursed through him. He didn't know what he should be feeling. There was bewilderment, of course. There was also a joy at hearing her voice again. Then there was anger, at both Isobel and whatever had happened to her. How could she have been alive all these years, knowing how much her death had tortured him and yet not seeking him out? But as soon as the question entered his mind, he tried to push it down. Of course she couldn't have sought him out. He looked up and down her body again with a feeling close to horror. She was one of _them_. Anger surged up in him again at thinking of how she must have been mistreated these past 15 years. He opened his mouth searching for words but none seemed appropriate. She kept her back to him, obviously wanting to hide as much of her changed appearance as she could.

Finally, he choked out, "Isobel, how?"

By this time her sobs were uncontrollable, so it took her a moment to quiet them enough to speak. "I made a deal with him," she moaned in anguish, "I wasn't ready to die! But now I realized that death would have been much better." She looked back to find him staring at her with a look on his face that was agony, mixed with anger, mixed with pity, mixed with horror.

Isobel's face crumpled in torment, and her tears began anew. "Oh, stop!" she cried, "I can't bear you looking at me like that. Like I'm a…. a… monster!" She hid her face in her one human hand and tried her best to hide her claw against her breast. "Oh, God! I _am _a monster!"

It tore his heart out to see her in such pain. After all, she had been the love of his life, and even now, he knew he still loved her, but what could he do? She was part of Davy Jones' crew! The enemy, for God's sake! How could he help her? _You helped her once before when she was the enemy_, said a voice in his mind. And he knew it was the truth, but…. He had been a different man then. A hot-headed _young _man who acted before he thought. Now he had more self control. Of course, he could never regret the short time he had had with Isobel. _Nothing _could ever make him regret that. But even though he didn't regret it, it had still ended badly. Perhaps if he had taken a different action rather than what he had, their relationship would not have ended in Isobel's supposed death. After that he had learned to think things through. But even though he racked his brain, searching the farthest recesses of his mind, he could find no solution to their current problem. He could still barely acknowledge that Isobel was, in fact, alive and sitting in front of him.

"Isobel," he said and despite his best efforts, his voice came out thick with unshed tears. He wouldn't let himself cry. He remembered the last time he cried, and it had been the night after Isobel's death when it really sank into him that she wasn't coming back. He couldn't let himself cry. "Isobel," he repeated her name, still loving the sound of it on his lips. It had been many years since he had spoken that name. "I don't know what to say. I thought… I didn't know… I thought you were… dead. If I had known I would have…." He trailed off, not knowing what to say. What would he have done? _Could _he have done anything? He most certainly would have tried, but would it have helped.

She continued to sob. "Oh, James," she wailed, "Why did you have to get mixed up in this? You should have never touched that heart. I know you say you don't have it, and I believe you, but I think you know where it is. He will not stop until he finds it, James. What you felt today will seem like a caress compared to how much he will hurt you in the future. And I don't know if you can stand to be beaten like that again."

Her words caused him to suddenly remember the biting pain in his back and the blood dripping down his sides. If this was a caress, he didn't want to know what would happen in the future. A wave of nausea swept over him, and he sat back down as he let out his breath in a rush.

Isobel took her face out of her hand and bounded to her feet. She picked up the wet and bloody cloth she had been holding and walked behind him. He flinched at the first cool touch but began to relax as Isobel both cleansed his wounds and caressed the few areas on his back where the skin was unbroken by Maccus' whip. If he tried to ignore the searing pain and tried to forget where they were, he could almost imagine that it was 15 years ago, and he and Isobel were sitting in bed talking and stroking each other like they used to.

After a moment, he said again, "I would have done… something had I known, Isobel. I would have tried."

"I know," Isobel replied quietly, "And I'm glad you didn't. If you had, you would be in the same plight as me or maybe dead now. I'm glad you didn't."

James changed the subject. "How did Jones find out about me?"

He felt Isobel tense behind him, and for a moment he feared that she was going to admit that she had been the one to betray him. He didn't think he could handle that. Therefore, he was glad when she allayed his fears. "It was a stinking son of a bitch who doesn't even deserve to be called a man," she growled. And if circumstances had been different, he would have smiled at her vehemence and her language. That was certainly the Isobel he remembered. Passionate, fiery. He loved that about her. "I told him so too," she continued.

"Who?" he repeated when she stopped.

"Jack Sparrow."

James would have jumped to his feet if not for fear of knocking down and hurting Isobel. He almost did anyway. "Jack Sparrow?!" he exclaimed, "That filthy bastard!"

"I called him that, too," Isobel remarked dryly.

"He has caused nothing but trouble for me," James said angrily, "First the loss of my position and now this! Is he on the ship?" Isobel nodded. "I will definitely have words with him. That scoundrel will regret this, mark my words."

There was a long period of silence in which Isobel finished cleansing his wounds. She walked around in front of him. He looked straight into her beautiful emerald eyes, the only part of her that hadn't changed. After a moment she said, "Why did you do it, James?"

"The heart? Well, I…"

"No," Isobel interrupted, "Why did you become commodore? I thought… I don't know what I thought, but I certainly hadn't expected that."

James stared at her silently for a moment. Then replied, "After you… died… well, something snapped in me. I'm a changed man now, Isobel. I'm very different from who I was 15 years ago."

She stared at him for a while, and a small tear trickled down her ghostly pale cheek. "I still love you, James," she whispered finally.

James stared back at her, searching for words. He looked at her changed appearance and was reminded that she was part of Davy Jones' crew now. Bound to him for another 85 years. Nothing good could come of this. He had to keep himself under control. But when he looked into those eyes, it stirred old feelings in him, and a part of him that he thought had died long ago tried to awake. Maybe…. No. "I…." he trailed off and looked away.

"It's alright, James," Isobel said quietly, and he could tell she was crying again. "I don't expect anything in return anymore. After all, could you really love a monster?" She turned and swiftly ran away before he could say anything.

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Please review! I can't stress enough how important reviews are for me. They inspire me and help me write faster and better. So if you want to read the next chapter anytime soon you better review! Lol. J/k. But seriously I would really appreciate it.


	5. Friends

This chapter is dedicated to Aslangirl15 for being such a faithful reviewer. Thank you very much! Your reviews mean a lot to me. Sorry it's been so long since my last update guys. I've been _extremely _busy! I know, excuses, excuses. Lol. By the way, I'm allowing anonymous reviews now.

Friends

After speaking with James, Isobel had gone down to her hiding place below deck, where she sat sobbing, with her arms wrapped around her legs and her weary head resting on her knees. Seeing him now after so many years, she realized that she loved him more than ever. Her love for him had grown more passionate, and his was gone. But could she really blame him? Perhaps if she was still so vivacious and beautiful, he could love her again. But what man would want a woman who was as ugly, deformed, and utterly damned as she? The look on his face…. Oh, she shuddered in agony to think of that look! She couldn't bear to see the horror, pity, and repulsion in his beautiful eyes when he looked at her. It would have been easier to bear if he hated her. She wished she had never seen him again.

She wished that she was a normal woman again. She wished even more that he would take her in his arms, pull her to his strong chest, stroke her hair, and whisper that he loved her and that everything would be alright, but she knew that that would not happen.

Age had certainly not been unkind to him. The few wrinkles around his eyes gave him a more distinguished and intelligent look. His face had become more stern- she suspected that was the result of years in a position of authority- but it had lost none of its former appeal. He was more lean than the last time she saw him, although still well muscled. Isobel sighed with longing. He had changed for the better, and she had changed for the worse.

She wondered how different he was from the man she had loved who seemed like an eternity ago. As Commodore, he probably hated pirates with much more vehemence than he had when she had first met him and fallen in love. And he was certainly more interested in power now. Why else would he have wanted Jones' heart? She would have to press him about that issue… if she could ever face him again.

She was so frightened for him! Jones wouldn't give up easily, and Isobel knew James wouldn't either. Jones might end up killing him. The flogging he had received earlier was nothing to what he would get before this was all over. She knew Jones' ruthlessness. She was lucky he had allowed her to drag James away from the mast when Maccus had finished with the whip. She had meant to bandage his wounds also, but the knowledge that he no longer cared for her had been too much. She would bandage them the next time she had the chance.

Maybe it was for the best that he didn't love her anymore. If he did love her and Jones picked up on it, which he most certainly would, he would try to use that love against James. Use her to make him break. She didn't want that. She couldn't stand to be the cause of him giving up.

But if he gave up, he wouldn't be in such danger any longer…. No. That was no way to think. And that was a solution that was not going to help anybody. Well, anybody except Jones. Besides James had been one of the most stubborn men she had met 15 years ago, and she guessed that that much about him had not changed.

She stood and wiped her eyes. She knew that sitting down there and crying would get her nothing more than a good lashing for shirking her duties. She knew that all the crying in the world was not going to win her back James. She sighed and went to go work.

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James stayed below deck where Isobel had hidden him, for he knew he was lucky to have escaped the wrath of Davy Jones for a short time. And he knew that he would probably be looking for him soon. After all, a prisoner on a ship belonged in the brig. Well, hopefully he could remain in this small storage room for as long as possible.

He heaved a heavy sigh as his thoughts shifted to Isobel. She probably hated him now. Maybe that was for the best. He didn't want her to love him anymore. Of course not. A relationship with Isobel now would only prove to complicate matters. Besides, love had done nothing but cause him grief in the past. First with Isobel and then his humiliating rejection at the hands of Elizabeth Swann. In the time since Elizabeth had refused him for Will Turner, James had thought about it and had decided to swear off love and relationships.

But Isobel had been dead to him when he made that decision. When he had sworn off love, he hadn't counted on having to meet her lovely green eyes ever again. If only…. No, that would get him nowhere. There was no point in wishing and thinking of what might have been. What was done was done, and James knew he had to cope with it all.

He sat down and, like he did only occasionally, let memories wash over him. He remembered Isobel's lilting laughter, her bright smile, the warm feel of her hands on his body. He loved the way they could talk for hours and never run out of things to say. He recalled with lusty pleasure the feel of her shapely legs wrapped around him when they made love. He almost drifted down into despair as his heart ached for things to be back the way they once had been. His mind screamed at him to stop thinking like that, but his heart thought differently.

A sound near the door caused him to stand. He clenched his hands in fists, prepared to put up a fight should it be some of those mutated men come to beat him again. He relaxed only a little when Isobel entered. He wouldn't have to be fighting a physical battle with her; he would be fighting for much more. His heart.

She stared down at some bandages she had in her hands, refusing to meet his eyes. It was obvious that she had been weeping. Her eyes were red and swollen. He had no doubt that he had been the cause of that weeping. The pained expression on her face tore at his soul. It made him want to take her into his arms in a comforting embrace despite all that was separating them. Cold reason and logic restrained him.

Isobel still did not look at him as she spoke. "Take off your shirt again, James, and turn around. I need to bandage those wounds." Her voice trembled slightly.

After a moment, James silently complied. Without a word, she moved up behind him and began to tenderly bandage up the still fresh wounds that he had taken from the whip. He noticed that she was careful never to touch his skin with her claw.

"Isobel," he said when he had grown uncomfortable in the heavy silence, "I'm sorry…."

She cut him off. "I don't need any explanations, James," she said. Her voice was stronger now, filled with resolve. "I understand, and I expect nothing else. Please, let's not talk of it."

_You do not understand at all,_ James thought to himself, wondering if he should let her know what he truly thought. "But, Isobel," he began again, his voice filled with frustration, "What I said…. Well, I meant…"

"Don't you dare give me false hope, James Norrington," she hissed angrily, "Don't do that to me. I may deserve a lot of things, but that is not one of them." He winced as she tightened one of the bandages with an angry tugged. "I had adjusted to a life of servitude and loneliness until _you _got involved! It was never easy, but at least it was bearable. Now…. Now, I don't know what I'll do now…." She trailed off into an angry silence.

She was right. She didn't deserve that from him. And false hope was all he could give her. Nothing good would come of anything else. He wished he could give her more. Isobel deserved the best anyone could give her. If only things had turned out differently. "I'm sorry," he whispered sadly.

"I know," she murmured back, all anger gone from her voice leaving only emptiness and despair. She finished tying off the last bandage, but rather than removing her hand, she let it rest lightly on the muscles of his back. "I didn't tell anyone where I took you," she said, "But I'm sure someone will be here to take you to the brig soon. I have things to see to. I will come to check on you when I can, and if you ever need a…." She took a deep breath. "Friend…" James thought she almost choked on the word. "To talk to… you can talk to me." He nodded, not trusting his voice enough to actually speak a reply.

Then he felt her lean in closer to him. Suddenly he felt the feather-light touch of her cold lips on the back of his shoulder. She let her mouth linger there, taking in the feel of him one last time, and then she drew back. She stood quickly and walked to the door. "Good-bye, James," she whispered before she left. And he knew it was not only a good-bye to him for that day, but a good-bye to what they once were. A good-bye to the lovers, James and Isobel.

"I don't know if I can just be your friend, Isobel," he said to the empty room. He touched the exact place on his shoulder blade where her lips had been, memorizing the way her kiss felt, for he did not think he would ever feel it again.

He sighed and leaned back. He might as well get some sleep while he could. _If _he could.

As it turned out, James didn't get much sleep at all. By the time he actually forced himself to drift off for a moment, one of Davy Jones' men came to drag him off to the brig.

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Sorry so short! I promise the next one will be longer. Please, please, please, _please, _review:)


	6. Author's Note

Author's Note

I'm going to have to put this story on hiatus for a little while. I have so much stuff to be doing what with the holidays right around the corner, and countless huge exams I'll have to take for my classes at the end of the term in two weeks. I'll try to work on the story as much as I can in my spare time, and I promise that as soon as I'm able I will continue. Thanks for understanding.


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